


Act One: A Name Like...

by noctyx (nicrt)



Series: All's Fair in Love and War [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/noctyx
Summary: there's more to a person than just their names





	1. ://glauca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what glauca is, titus cannot be.

**:** **// _glauca_**

Glauca was the embodiment of everything Titus Drautos could not be.

Rage.

For a land lost to raining fire, for a ruined home carpeted with corpses, and for a suffering people still yoked about.

Power.

An amalgam of stolen ancient technology, of cursed dark magic and of inherited physical superiority.

Truth.

The proof of existence, that Lucis had betrayed her vows of protection and had sold off their subjects to certain doom.

Hatred.

Towards a naïve and foolish king, a king with no claim, a king who was incompetent and a disgrace to all Lucis had once stood for.

Glauca was the persona Titus Drautos held deep within his soul, the secret that he held tightly in his grasp, whilst he was surrounded by his enemies.

Glauca was the strength of Titus Drautos, in that serving one enemy would allow him to finally destroy another.

Glauca was the will of Titus Drautos, in that when Lucis finally falls, all else would be free from her weak rule.

Glauca was the one impervious to anything that would ruin Titus' goal, the one with enough rage, power, truth and hatred to slay a king.

Titus was not.


	2. ://regis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is a difference between man and king

_**://regis** _

Regis…oh Regis. 

For all the mistakes, he’s made as a king - his  _being_  a king was a mistake - Titus came to see that he was a human too.

A family man - he cared too much for his son, sacrificed his responsibilities towards the people he was meant to save to save his blood. 

A naive man - he trusted too much in his confidants, relied too heavily on the goodness of hearts and blind to false loyalties. 

An honest man - he was an open book to all who knew him, with subtle and small expressions and fidgeting betraying the regalness he should be portraying.

A kind man - he was quick to welcome all displaced by the war, to make hasty provisions and decisions above the discerning and disappointed eyes of the council.

A good man - he was a good man weighed down by the burdens of a crown, a crown that shouldn’t be his because he  _wasn’t_  a good king.

Titus sees all of these.

Has been, since he’s watched him lead, for the past decade as a captain of the glaives.

Has been, since he’s observed him rule, from the shadows as a trusted confidant.

Has been, since he’s witnessed him laugh, by the royals’ side as a close friend.

And no man can find fault or disgust in another for being good. 

He loathed the king and his crown, but he loved the man and his heart.


	3. ://titus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what titus was, and then became

**_://titus_ **

He was fifteen when the Empire attacked. Metal men came marching through the marshes, holding strange weapons that shot small projectiles that dug into flesh. Small projectiles – bullets he later learned – that tore into bodies in rapid succession, in bursts of short and bright lights, that smoked at the tips of the nozzles. His mother, uncles and cousins stood no chance against that onslaught; they fell where they stood, with their axes and swords still raised above their heads, choking on their war cries.

He was eighteen when he was still begging for shelter and food in exchange for his skills. His sisters wrapped in their thinning cloaks, his grandmother paralysed in her stony silence, his people cast aside like broken and unwanted things. He would hunt for the gil needed for transportation, he would work for a roof above their heads, he would kill for a strip morsel to fill their aching bellies. The radio crackled to life, and it’s the first time he’d ever felt so hopeful; the gates of Insomnia, open to all refugees.

He was twenty-one when he watched the ceremonial proceedings on the small television, cooped up alone in the small apartment within the refugee district. Dressed in an all-black suit, silver crown in his brown hair, a band of silver being slipped onto his right finger. His new wife was clothed in an all-white _kimono_ , long black hair pulled into a topknot, a band of gold being slipped onto her right finger. There was a beast in his chest, clawing at his heart, breathing fire into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe as the two royals shared a kiss on live tv. He’s thankful that none of his family are left alive to watch such a disgusting display of peace.

He was thirty when he stood at parade’s rest, hands clasped behind the small of his back, hair cropped in the way most Insomnian soldiers did, dressed in a formal black and grey uniform. His name – _“Titus Drautos”, he called out in that low and charismatic voice of his_ – was called out and he walked briskly up the stairs, the ones in the audience chamber of the Citadel. Gloved hands lifted the crest, a black armoured dragon with swords for wings, and pinned onto the side of his arm. Brown eyes gazed into his own; a smile slipped onto the young king’s face. He was congratulated for becoming one of the first Kingsglaive soldiers, for binding his will to the king’s magic, for being a lap dog to a selfish country. “ _For hearth and home_ ,” he had replied to his liege lord. The phrase sparked a knowing look in the king’s eye. “ _For hearth and home_ ,” the king solemnly agreed.

He was twelve when he first shared the old vows of his village to the young prince, in the muddy swamps of Vesta. Twelve when he watched in awe as the prince called upon his full armiger. Twelve when the prince was seventeen and travelling with his father, on a royal tour of the lands. Twelve when he proclaimed that he’ll be a better shield than Leonis or Amicitia. Twelve when the prince laughed and told him to try. Twelve when Titus, son of Titania, firstborn from Clan Drautos, first met Regis Lucis Caelum. Twelve when he did not know, that he would come to hate the king he would later become.

He was twenty-five when he was approached by the man with no consequences. When he was brought to Niflheim and shown the gnarled metal armour. When he was tested and trialled against the so-called best of the Empire. When they put dark magic into his veins, when they drowned him in a second skin, when they gave him an army to fight against Lucis and all her mistakes. When they made him an enemy to his king on both sides.

This was when Titus became Glauca.

When Titus became a knife to the king’s back instead of shield.

When Titus became a traitor to his homeland instead of a patriot.

When Titus became a lie, an illusion casted by the hate and vengeance within him.

This was when Glauca was born.

And tried to kill Titus along the way.


End file.
